


Eden of the Damned

by Angelchexmex



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Dark Harry Potter, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-01-14 17:41:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1275238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelchexmex/pseuds/Angelchexmex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was born to the darkness, she was dragged down. But when they meet a new power is born, one the Wizarding World has never met before. The end is near and it's names are Harry Potter and his loyal servant Estella Malfoy. They will bring this world to it knees and create from the ashes, an Eden of the Damned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Angel of Darkness Meet Lord Beelzebub

**Author's Note:**

> I really like this story but updates will be excessively slow however it will never be abandoned. I have simply decided to not post a chapter of it unless I am happy with every aspect of the chapter. So sorry but slooooow updates!

Blood was so beautiful in the moonlight when it decorated the white tiles and buttercup walls of a bathroom. When a blade flashed through the silver light and opened creamy pale flesh allowing ruby red drops to form and slip down to splash against cold desolate flooring below. And the soft voice of a broken soul that sung to another cut from the same decimated cloth, “Hush child the darkness will rise from the deep and carry you down into sleep.”

The fractured love that can only exist between two that know nothing of joy or happiness untainted from the blank stains of death and destruction. Knowing only the litany that they sing to each other when the darkness becomes too much and they know the other is all they will ever have. They sing it as they search one another’s eyes in the purest light either has ever known, the only light that shines through the inky blackness that is all that their world consists of. “Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty, loyalty, loyalty, loyalty, loyalty, only to me.” It’s a promise and a plea and a warning all wrapped into one and it’s the only comfort either understand in a world made of bloodstains and tears, screams and threats, pain and suffering, beatings and rape. It is the law they have lived by all their lives, their only law.

He is the shadows hair dark as ebony that flows to the ground wrapping around him like a cloak as it sucks the color from all around it bangs framing the jaded Cal Poly green orbs that could freeze a man’s blood in their very veins. His body is ivory carved with ropy lines that sang of an internal suffering seen by none and cared about by even less. These ghostly white lines are made by his hands and release the most intoxicating colored liquid he has ever seen. Seeing it again and again had become an obsession a need beyond any craving for food or water or sleep that he has ever felt before. The only need that is above this one all-consuming wish to watch his life flow from his body with glinting metal in his hand is the one that devours all else in its path. A need to see her shattered, punishing, and satirical grin that can never be labeled as a smile but nor can it be called anything else for a smile speaks of happiness and the grin damaged and ruined as it is, is the closest she will ever come to happiness. And he craves that expression more than he craves air to fill his lungs. That grin and her touch is all he needs to survive, it is all he has survived on since his birth.

She is what light would look like if you stained it irreparably with ink of the darkest shade. With what was once golden hair but now lacked all luster and sheen it may have once contained and cracked corn silk eyes that no longer contained the ability to see, she was the vision of tainted light. Unlike him, who was born into the dark, she was dragged down from an early age stripped slowly of dignity and moral until she sat in the pits of hell with him and cackled the insane laugh of one who could be harmed no more than they already were. To her it is the amaranth pink of fresh burns against her maroon skin that is the darkest of delicacies. It is the flickering flame that transforms what was once beautiful into something tarnished that captivates her very being. It is her who sings his lullabies in the darkness of hell and her who warms his cold body with her flames. For her he is everything and more. She is the moon and he the earth when he shifts she moves to accommodate. More than her flames more than the burns and the suffering more than the tarnishing of every glorious entity in the universe she craves that infinitesimal, derisive, demoniac twitch of lips and demented glint in his eyes that comes out only when he is at his absolute worst and the sinful soul that resides within him is filled to the brim with depraved pleasure. And so she sings to him in the silent and solitary bathroom: “I pledge my allegiance to all things dark and I promise on my damned soul to do as I am told.”

For them it is more than a mere pledge. It is a soul binding promise of allegiance and obedience, the words acting as a contract between the two tying them to each other’s wishes and stating them as the other’s slave. “Lord Beelzebub,” she sang because he was her lord, her king of the underworld and the one who controlled her. “You’ve never seen a soldier quite like me. Not only does her job, but does it happily.”

And he will pledge himself to her in the same way. With different words and a different mind he will reply: “The love is lost, beauty and light, have vanished from garden of delight. The dreams are gone, midnight has come, and the darkness is our kingdom. Angel of Darkness, Angel of Darkness, the world is in your hand.” She is his Angel and he is her Lord. Under his rule she fights and under her guidance he will build a kingdom of tarnished glory and decimated splendor.

She is called Estella Malfoy but her soul sings when he dubs her his Angel of Darkness.

He is Harry Potter but his heart burns brightly when she dubs him her Lord Beelzebub.

Together they complete a puzzle that holds only jagged edges and shows a picture of barren lands and swirling orbs that drain the light and life from their surroundings. It is a picture that will drive any mad but to these two it is a picture captivating and glorious beyond any creation, bar each other, for them this is their Eden. This is what they will set out to create.

Harry Potter had been born into darkness even though his parents were exalted light wizards. The moment he had been conceived his very being had been stained by the scorned love of a man, who had been tarnished by the hatred of his father and weakness of his mother, and by the capricious heart of his mother that had decided to so callously disregard the emotions of a powerful and internally stunning man for one who had a gorgeous exterior and a rotting interior. These three people had been woven together by Magic herself and had been twisted by their own pettiness and cruelty into forming a life that should have never been. As punishment for abusing her gift so thoroughly magic had damned the child to a life of darkness even as she brought him into her embrace loving him as a mother would her child and yet as a being with no true thought nor feelings she gave him not the love of a human mother but the gift of power, enough for him to take retribution on those who belittled him and treated him as if he was lower than the dirt on their shoes.

It was this tainted and darkened power that drew all to him. For in all there is darkness, a seductive litany that will croon in the back of one’s mind until it takes over completely. The young Harry called to that in all that surrounded him the sinfulness of his very being calling to them seducing their unconscious allegiance from their very souls. He was a good child, his parents said. He is a true beauty, they all would agree. And little baby Harry would watch quietly, patiently. He never cried, not for food, not for warmth, not for cleaning. No he called to them without verbal help; he used his magic to whisper his needs in their ears instead. Eventually his parents noticed his peculiarities. They began to fear him and despise him for what he was when in reality he was merely a creature of their creation. As the fear grew it blossomed into a deep soul tainting hatred and they began to neglect the child they had once praised.

It was this neglect that would be their downfall. The pain and hatred that permeated the house fed the darkness in little Harry’s soul until it was great enough to call out to one with more power than any other. It was this neglect at the hands of his parents that called Lord Voldemort to their house that Halloween’s eve. Despite their negligence as parents, when the Dark Lord began to hunt them they agreed mutually to take Harry with them, for they could no longer call him their son: no creature of such depravity could have originated from them. So they ran with little Harry in tow and somehow the Dark Lord kept getting closer to them, closer and closer to finding their hiding spot. The longer they hid the more they feared, the more they feared the more Harry’s powers matured, the more his powers matured the stronger the beacon they let out to call the Dark Lord to him.

It wasn’t long before the Dark Lord arrived at their hidden home for he could feel the call even though the Fidilious charm set up around the house. He destroyed both parents easily. Pathetic creatures meant only to feed from before being rid of them. They were worth no attention of his. And then he came upon the real prize, Harry. The child’s eyes were already jaded and spoke of an intelligence no young one should ever contain. And the Dark Lord knew with stark clarity that this child now was more a part of the Dark than he could ever hope to be. In fear, a fear so primal the Dark Lord was never even aware if its existence within him, he cast the darkest spell he knew: Avada Kedavra. But even with all the darkness and sin Voldemort contained within his body one of it was enough to harm the demoniac child watching him mockingly from the crib. Instead the small baby devoured the tainted power as it hit him leaving behind nothing but a lightning bolt scar and before the Dark lord could flee, for he had finally realized his mistake in attempting to harm this child, Harry returned the spell swirled with the inky stains which made up the entirety of his own soul. Voldemort’s body crumbled to dust unable to hold such absolute immorality within the weak mortal flesh.

And later when Black came to collect him Harry instead implored him to go after the rat and Sirius so entrenched in his own darkness obeyed his true Lord and left to bring back the creature his master had asked for. Hagrid, so out of tune with the darkness that writhed within his soul caged in a netting of fouled light, did not respond to Harry’s urgings to follow Sirius; Hagrid would be the first on his list to die.

When they arrived at Number 4 Privet Drive Harry could taste the greed and jealousy and pride that tainted the very air. He quieted upon the feeling devouring it as it greeted his soul shredding any lasting light to oblivion leaving behind only devastating ruin in its wake. This would be the place that the last of Harry’s light would be extinguished and the place where she would come to him. So Harry, knowing in a way that was not true knowledge that this was a place he needed to stay, did not even try to reach out to the darkness he could feel twisted around the old man who carried him to the doorstep nor did he fight when he was left in the cold air with little besides a ragged thin blanket for cover.

The cold had always been Harry’s haven and on this night where no stars shined in the sky and the moon hid behind invisible clouds the young child accepted his place in this world: as its Armageddon. And words were whispered into the night air heard by no ear yet resounding through every soul and staining even the brightest with its sickly meaning. “When god is gone and the devil takes hold who will have mercy on your soul? Well I am death. None can excel. I will open the door to heaven or hell.” And it would be hell to which he sent all souls. “My name is Death and the end is near.”

Estella Malfoy was born into the light despite her parents being well known dark wizards and accused Death Eaters. Both her parents held affection for each other though it never dared to cross into love. The one secret that her father had and wished to carry to his death was the true origins of her birth. It was this secret that dragged her pure soul through the mud and into the pits of hell. For her father had not been faithful and in the night when he thought none would see he transferred the newly created Estella into his wife’s body nearly killing the woman who was supposed to be her mother. 

None were the wiser for Estella had the patent Malfoy hair like her twin brother and surely her dark skin tone could be explained by the Black genes Narcissa carried and as for the eye color it was surely just a paler grey than usual. And Narcissa lied to herself for a year about the origins of her youngest child though subconsciously she could not love this child whom her magic knew as not her own. Estella was taken care of by all the best house elves that fawned over her beauty and golden aura while her brother was left to the care of their parents. It was he who heard words of love and praise whispered in his ears while Estella’s ears were filled with the poisonous whispers of her true mother, a woman scorned and the bastard half-sister of Lucius himself; not that he was aware. “Guileless girl, I’ll shape your belief, and you’ll always know that your fathers a thief, and you won’t understand the cause of your grief, but you’ll always follow the voices beneath.”

From the time she released her first breath Estella was a pawn for her first mother, a way to destroy the man she loved more than any other. And it was from this mother that she learned love and loyalty, this damaged affection that was only tainted the further the longer she lived. For Lucius, as he was father to her only through blood, had steered her birthing mother, Narcissa, farther away from the golden child whenever Narcissa’s conscience caught up to her and demanded she show kindness to her daughter as well. Inside the once benign and benevolent child began to grow a being of depraved sin. “My only girl, your spirit will hate her. The flower who married my brother the traitor. And you will expose his puppeteer behavior, for you are the proof of how he betrayed her loyalty.”

However the final blow, the last drop of sludge which had young Estella falling into the dark pits of agony and despair known as hell was all her true mother’s fault. For the bastard sister of Lucius to communicate with her child vast, powerful magic was needed, magic she took from Estella’s small form. Magic Estella did not have to perform wondrous feats such as her brother could do on a daily bases. Horror washed over her parents as the only conclusion, to their addled meager minds, presented itself to them in terrifying clarity; their daughter was a squib. In their horror they threw the child to the dungeons leaving her in solitude with the creatures that resided in the inky shadows down below and the demons residing within her own psych.

It was these creatures, monster formed from thousands of years of prisoners’ wishes for retribution and the destruction of their captors, who were more thought than being, more magic than man who took her from certain death and instead sent her to another formed of the same turpitude and desolateness as her. It was here in the dark of night on the doorstep of Number 4 Privet Drive she met her Lord. It was here the machinations of her mother bled from her body and new chains were wrapped around a willingly given body, soul, heart, and mind. And as the chains wrap around her, as she signs her life and world away as a servant to him, a voice breaths through her very soul giving her one warning, a warning that to her is more a promise than a threat. “Hope you got your things together. Hope you are quite prepared to die. Looks like we’re in for nasty weather. One eye is taken for an eye.”

A young once tarnished golden baby girl reached her hand out to accept the embrace of a jaded baby boy born into the darkest depths of despair. And as the sun rose upon these two creatures born from the foulest of filth, the most desecrated and demented form of love, and the cruelest and hardest of teachings the very world celebrated the beginning of the end. For the Angel of Darkness had just met and accepted her master and Lord Beelzebub had finally become acquainted with his most dedicated and precious servant the woman who would one day become his beloved Consort. Their love and devotion to one another would bring the very world to its knees as they created an Eden of the Damned.


	2. The Laufey's New Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape comes to see The-Boy-Who-Lived and instead lives to sign his life away to the Lord Beelzebub and his crazed Consort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have another chapter of this already typed up: over 6,000 words. So I'll post that in a day or two as well :) And in this we finally have another Harry Potter character. So YAY! Also anyone you want to see join up with Harry and Estella just let me know because I have an idea for at least three of the people but no more.

She hummed a toneless tune creating a decadent melody in harmony with screams of the man tied to a chair in front of her. Blood slipped past the once white bandage she had wrapped around the traitor’s eye after popping it out with her fingers. She always had adored the look of ruined glory, even if she could no longer see it in the normal human ways. This turncoat deserved all of her careful attentions for his actions and his body showed just how devoted she was. Apart from the missing eye one ear had been severed and all of his fingernails and toenails had been pulled, nails shoved through the bottoms of his feet until some stuck up through the top, burns littering his chest clashing in a garishly enchanting picture with the Byzantium purple that spoke of frostbite. Once dashing brown hair was now streaked with crusty blood and cooling tar. Now only one terrified blue eye was left working and she relished the fouled magnificence in front of her even though she could not truly see her work.

“My Lord will punish me for allowing you entrance.” She whispered musingly as her knife trailed lightly over his abdomen. He watched in horrified fascination as she spoke dirty gold hair pulled back in a high ponytail and unseeing eyes doing an impressive imitation of vision. She had long ago learned to torture with feeling alone no longer relying on the crutch of true sight but instead practicing her own kind of visualization. “It was on my word alone that he bequeathed you admittance and by my word one of his children were injured. Soon it will be my blood that pays penance.” She spoke with an intriguing mixture of anticipation and grim devastation. She had failed her Lord and every punishment he would enact upon her could never make up for such an error.

“Let me go and we can protect you.” The bug whispered pleading with a woman who knew nothing of negotiations and understood not why she would wish protection from her beloved Lord Beelzebub. “You help me out of here and give us all the information you have and we can protect you. You don’t have to suffer under that man, no child deserves that.”

“I’m no child.” She responded not understanding why he would say such things. Didn’t he know how devoted she was to her Lord? How much she loved him? And then she had an idea. She always loved singing things; everyone knew that was how she spoke most of the time so this would work out well. “It’s so lonely being evil,” she began softly. “What I’d do to see a smile, even for a little while, and no one loves you when you’re evil.”

“I can help you!” The bastard implored trying to force a shaky smile to his face. It was a constant source of amusement for her that so many forgot of her lack of sight. She never acted blind thus no one treated her as if it was so. “Just untie me and help me out of here. I’ll help you gain your freedom.” Slowly she nodded her head knowing the police man tied to the chair was feeling relieved. She placed her blade against the ropes gently before a wild cackle left her lips and the blade sank into the man’s arm drawing a line from wrist to shoulder.

“I’m lying through my teeth! Your tears are all the company I need!” She crowed spinning away from the police man blood flying from her blade as she went. She simply adored tormenting her prisoners! It was so much fun!

“Does that mean you no longer require my company my Angel?” The soft voice snapped Angel from her sadistic joy. Standing in the doorway to this basement room was Lord Beelzebub himself. He wore a black top hat with a Byzantium purple ribbon wrapped around it tied in a bow on one side holding two raven feathers to the hat. It lay elegantly on his short silky locks. His lips were painted an Egyptian blue while a darker Catalina blue gave dimension to his startlingly jaded Cal Poly eyes. He wore a black trench coat made of dragon hide, though most would wrongly assume it to be alligator, and underneath a light maroon shirt and black skinny jeans.

Aggravated at her own lack of attention as she did not hear her Lord’s high heeled thigh-high leather boots clicking against the concrete flooring. “I will always need my Lord!” Angel cried running to his side and getting down on her knees before grasping his left hand in both of hers and kissing the ring that resided there. It was the symbol of their family that was engraved on that ring and the sign of his Lordship. It was a wolf that sat next to a six legged horse with a female rider and a male rider on his back while a serpent curled around all four. It was a representative of the five children of Loki Laufeyson, God of Mischief. Fenrir the wolf, Sleipnir the six-legged horse, Hel the frost giant, Jörmongandr the world snake, and Narfi son of Loki. Their family held the name of the Laufeys and was known as the trickster family of Britain’s underworld.

“As I will always need my Angel.” Lord Beelzebub agreed pulling his Angel from the ground before kissing her lips softly. The man in the chair was shocked. He had known that she was the Angel of Darkness, it was common knowledge in law enforcement, but they had all assumed that Lord Beelzebub was a grown man. After all no child could lead one of the most feared mafias in Britain…right? But in all of the data the police had it was made obvious that Angel obeyed only Lord Beelzebub and with one sentence this child had been able to reign in the blood thirsty Angel of Darkness.

“Are you nearly finished in here my Angel?” Lord Beelzebub questioned running his hand through her hair and tugging almost harshly on the strands. “We still need to talk of your lapse in judgement.”

The Angel shuddered slightly. This had been her worst mistake in a long time, and last time had cost her sight. “If you wish me to finish my Lord I will finish now.” She swept a graceful bow her blood soaked black gown sticking to her body as she moved. She waited for her lord’s words, holding her subservient position. 

Lord Beelzebub hummed quietly as his eyes took in the scene before him. Blood splattered the concrete walls of the basement they were holed up in and the man tied to the chair didn’t look as if he would last much longer. Shifting his head Beelzebub studied his Dark Angel. She was coated from head to bare foot in blood. It ran thickly down her pale skin leaving behind pink trails and drying in her clothes. His Angel had come so far since the beginning.

Beelzebub still remembered when his Angel had been called Estella, when she had been too afraid to stand up for herself. But that was many years ago, before he had killed the Dursleys and made a cloak from their skin. “I will give you five minutes to finish with your play my Angel, but then we must speak. You will meet me in my chambers.” And with that Lord Beelzebub swept from the basement leaving behind a terrified man to his death at the hands of a woman with no mercy.

####

A knock interrupted Lord Beelzebub in his task and he turned to it the whip in his hand dripping blood on the already coated floor. Who dared to interrupt him now? “Angel?” His Angel of darkness lifted her head turning to look at him even as the motion made the gouges in her back bleed quicker. Copious amounts of blood already marked the floor and stained the white floor. This wasn’t the first time Beelzebub had punished his Angel this way. He didn’t want to have to punish her but there was no other way for his Angel to learn. And Beelzebub knew his Angel secretly liked the burn of the whip as it marred her flesh and tore her body open, allowing her blood to flow freely. 

“My Lord?” She questioned sightless eyes looking slightly to the left of where he stood, but she didn’t move from her kneeling position and Beelzebub gave a vicious grin of pleasure. He used one hand to pull her lips up to meet his in a kiss. It was in no way gentle but for them it was perfect. Ferocious and demanding and involved lots of teeth and blood that both lapped up greedily. 

The knocking brought Beelzebub and his Angel back to the present. “Answer the door for me Love.” He commanded stepping back. His Angel pushed herself up and walked towards the door negating any clothing. If she was supposed to put clothes on she would have been told, but Beelzebub wanted whoever was outside the door to see his work and so she went without clothes. 

Angel opened the door to a sight she hadn’t expected. Behind the door was an almost frantic James. James was one of the newer children they had ‘adopted’ into their family. He was twenty-three years old and a genius, not to mention gorgeous. His dirty blond hair always looked windswept and complemented his bronzed skin immensely. His teeth were all perfectly straight and white, and when he smiled all those around him wanted to do whatever he asked. But now his perfect features and baby blue eyes were painted in panic. “Mom there are visitors in the lounge. Ones you don’t want to mess with.”

All of the ‘children’ of the Laufey family called Angel mom or some variation of it and all of them called Beelzebub father, even though almost all of them were older. “My Lord,” Angel called turning back to her beloved master. “There are visitors in the lounge.”

Beelzebub moved forward to join his Angel taking in James shaken appearance, something was going on. “Their ain’t no rest for the wicked.” 

James relaxed at Beelzebub’s words, his interruption wouldn’t end in punishment from his Father. None of the children wanted to disappoint their parents, James especially since he was the new kid. He loved being in a family, having other people looking after him, and looking after others. They were twisted and dark, stained in their own way, but they never abandoned one another. Even if they did believe in the saying ‘an eye for an eye.’ 

“Leave,” Beelzebub commanded and James left. “Dress my Angel and let us great our guest.” Angel hurried to comply picking out a silky black shirt from the wardrobe and jean shorts. She needed to be able to move easily just in case. From beside the door she picked up her scythe and daggers strapping them on.

“They say we ain’t got the style. We ain’t got the class...let’s prove them wrong.” She grinned, perverted glee lit her Lord’s face and pleasure coursed through her body. She loved that depraved smile and grotesque laugh that left others trembling in fear. Her Lord wanted blood and carnage, and that was just what she would give him.

###

Snape frowned severely as he took in the room he had been told to wait in. What kind of lavishness had the boy-who-lived been given? It disgusted him to think on it. The bastard was probably just like his father, cruel and filled with self-importance. Snape would just have to teach the boy what the real world was like. A cruel smile curled Snape’s lips at the thought. 

The door to his left, the one he hadn’t come through, opened and in came the man who had led him here. “Mom and Dad are on their way.” He stated skittishly before bolting back out the door. The boy was still afraid of Snape, good. Snape had had to turn the creatine into a newt before he had been let in. It served the little bastard right.

“Useless,” he sneered turning his eyes away from the door to study the lavish furniture around him.

“Now I know I’m not a saint. I’ve been a sinner all my life.” The melodic voice brought Snape’s head around so quick he almost got whiplash. Standing in the doorway was a heavily armed eleven year old child. A scythe was held in her pale hand and knives were strapped liberally over her body. The skin tight shirt and disgustingly short shorts did little to hide her body. “I ain’t tryin to hide my flaws. I’d rather keep them in the light.” 

Snape blinked in confusion before lifting his lip in a sneer. “What do you want little girl. I’m looking for a boy named Potter.” She giggled at him walking forwards to reveal another child standing just behind her. This one was male and wearing a top hat and trench coat. His dark blue shirt was splattered with a red jam. Slob, Snape sneered mentally unaware that the stains were actually blood and not jam. Maybe then he would have kept his mouth shut and lived just a little longer. “Are you Potter boy?”

Out of his line of sight Angel’s eyes flashed and a savage fury rose in her body boiling her blood. She wanted to burn him, to hear his scream as fire charred flesh and burnt bone. She wanted to impale his body upon stakes and rip out his fingernail. Wanted to rend his flesh from bone as she listened to his pleas for a mercy she did not posses. But she would not move unless her Lord commanded it of her. “Hangman is coming down from the gallows and you don’t have very long.”

Snape spun around to look at her but her Lord raised a hand, and the blade she hadn’t realize she had drawn was retracted. “What do you want with me?” Her Lord questioned cool Cal Poly green eyes assessing the specimen before him. He was not impressed. 

“I am here to give Potter his Hogwarts acceptance letter.” Snape sneared trying to regain his equilibrium. That little girl had just pulled a blade on him. It was disconcerting to Snape, especially because she did not look as if she would hesitate to use it. 

Angel shifted her stance ready to lunge but her Lord’s voice froze her in place. “The jig is up, the news is out, they’ve finally found me.” Angel wanted to suggest they simply kill the wizard but now was not the time to contradict her Lord. Only when the were in private was Angel allowed to speak her mind. “Do you have one for my Angel as well?” 

His Angel moved to his side keeping herself between him and the wizard that had invaded their home. They had both knew this day would come. Had known since they had made the Dursley’s tell them everything they knew about their origins. They were still searching for his Angel’s parents to show them some ‘hospitality’. 

“I have another for a child named Estella.” Snape replied finally connecting the dots. This young girl was the Estella then, interesting. Estella shifted her footing slightly and Snape began to pay more attention to the two in front of him. The way they stood, they way they moved and that cloying feeling in the air. “You reek of darkness.” Snape stated shocked. It was true; both of their magics seemed to be made of the foulest of despairs and even now he could feel them feeding off of his own regret and fear, hatred and shame.

“I’m on my way to the promised land. I’m on the highway to hell.” Estella mocked him.

Potter joined in his smile more like a predator’s baring of teeth. “Hey satan. Paying my dues.”

“How?” Snape questioned changing his attitude. Now that he was paying attention he could feel the power in the room, could feel the seductive sin that spilled from the two children, no these were not children, couldn’t be mere children, in front of him. It called to his own soul and beckoned him to bow before his Master. The only other time he had felt like this was when he was in Voldemort’s presence, and even that held no comparison to this.

“When she was just a girl she expected the world. But it flew away from her reach and the bullets catch in her teeth.” Potter curled an arm around Estella’s waist, a sign of possession.

“Life goes on it gets so heavy. The wheel breaks the butterfly.” And then Estella grinned the depravity of it making Snape tremble slightly. “And you want to know a secret?” She whispered seductively as the snake suggesting Eve eat the apple. Snape found himself nodding without his minds consent. “I know the sun must set to rise.”

Potter finished for her his voice bringing Snape to his knees. The sound was one that could only be made by a soul so depraved it had not a speck of innocence or good within it. So alluring that Snape knew he would do anything for this child, take any risk, commit any crime just to hear that broken pain mixed with sweet debauchery. “Unless we destroy it first.”

“My Lord,” Snape intoned bowing his head. 

His Angel smiled brightly, a devilish glint lighting up her eyes and sick joy shining through her grin. “A new child,” She giggled, the sound made of broken glass and scraping the eardrums as a thousand razors would. “May I keep him my Lord?” She pleaded all her earlier annoyance with the man gone. He couldn’t be completely stupid if he knew to bow to her Lord, Master, and Lover. 

“If my Consort wishes it then she will have it.” Beelzebub intoned. “But my Angel I suggest you keep this one on a tighter leash than the last, I will not accept another failure.” He applied pressure to the whip marks still adorning his Angel’s back and she shuddered at the reminder. 

“I will not fail again my Lord.” She would sooner lose her life. Beelzebub nodded his head in acceptance and she clapped her hands. “What does he look like my Lord?” She questioned eyes flickering here and there even though she had not been able to see for years. 

Snape’s head shot up at the question and he studied the white-blue of her irises. There was barely any colour at all to them. She can’t see, he thought in shock, Yet it doesn’t impair her at all.

“You are now a child of the Laufey family.” Snape’s new Lord stated. “You will obey or pay the consequences. My word is law.”

Snape nodded his acquiescence and his Lord nodded in approval even as jaded eyes swept over his kneeling form. “Rise then my son. You will prepare us for Hogwarts.” And then Beelzebub turned to his Consort and kissed her lips softly. “It is time to expand our Eden my Angel, and we shall begin by bringing Hogwarts to its knees.

His Angel danced around the room singing: “No hope, no love, no glory, no happy ending. This is the way that we love. Like it’s forever. Can’t get no love without sacrifice. No hope, or love, or glory, happy endings gone forever more.” 

Beelzebub clapped in rhythm with his consort as she danced around the room. Hogwarts would bow at their feet.


	3. Introduction to Wizardry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time the encounter the wizardgin world. It has begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops. I forgot to post this :) Enjoy.

“Leave no trace, eliminate the human race. Leave no trace, eliminate the human race.” Blood rained down from the ceiling splashing to the ground in harmony with his Angel’s singing. “Killers, murderers, wreckers, ruiners, terrorists, addicted to death.” A piece of flesh flew through the air and desperate scream made the very ground tremble with their force, yet none would hear their pleas, at least, none that would be willing to help. Five people hung in the dungeon room, a room dragged from the very horrors which made humans instinctively fear the night and run from the sound of a breaking twig in a forest alone. The dungeon was a room of base fear and instinct and in this room of terror Angel reigned supreme. This was a place that none who was taken in left alive.

His Angel had found the traitor’s partners and, with her Lord’s permission, had taken them to this room for punishment and judgement. Laying prone in the middle of the room was the dead body of the traitor himself, naked and disfigured. The bodies chained to the walls stunk of feces and urine and the sharp tang of blood floated through the air in a tantalizing cocktail of misery and hopelessness. It was a promise as for what was to come their way. 

Angel hummed and spun as she danced her ballet of pain and sorrow, horror and despair. The feelings hung in the air and cloyed it beautifully until all the enchanted torturer could feel and think and hear were the sounds of pleading and deep soul aching regret. None of the men in this room would ever be allowed to say a goodbye to their loved ones and when angel had finished not even a scrap of flesh would be left to console those left on Earth.

Momentarily Angel wished for her sight back, and then her mind caught up with her and she viciously stamped down the disgusting part of herself wishing for a reprieve from the punishment her Lord and lovingly handed out. Angel had made an unforgivable mistake nearly seven years ago, but her beloved Master had taken only her sight and left her her life as a sign of forgiveness. She would not dare to wish for a remission from her punishment when already her Lord had been so very kind. Making a note to speak with her Lord about properly disciplining herself for such untoward thoughts, Angel continued her ballet with a bloody knife in one hand and a flaming torch in the other.

“Angel,” Beelzebub called out no matter how much he wished to prolong his consort’s fun. His consort did love ever so much to hurt others and ruin the beauty she could feel in the world around her. How his Angel of Darkness could sense the winsomeness of those around her Beelzebub was unsure, but her accuracy with the tools of torture never faltered and every man sent to his beloved came back broken and disfigured and alive or dead just as he requested.

At Beelzebub’s words Angel immediately spun around and flew to her Master’s side. Dropping to her knees, she bowed before her lord, blood soaked hair lying limply around her head. Beelzebub found his servant exquisite when covered in gore and surrounded by carnage. It was in these moments he remembered why he had dubbed her his Angel of Darkness.

“Severus is to show us Diagon Alley today my love. You have half an hour to make yourself presentable.” His Angel got up quickly and left the room though Beelzebub could see the disappointment rolling off her in waives. His girl never did enjoy being interrupted.

###

Thirty minutes later Angel walked into the living room in average teenage clothing. “Is this correct, my Lord?” She questioned uncertainly. She had never tried to dress as a normal teenager and found she rather missed her flowing dresses and scraps of cloth. Perhaps the wizarding robes her Master had spoken to her of would be more fitting. These jeans were abominations and irritating to her skin. She felt far too confined in such clothing and was barely able to drown the impulse to tear them from her body. 

"Wonderful my Angel. No one will know so long as you keep your thoughts to yourself." Her Master praised and warned. Her Master was clothed in a simple ACDC T-shirt and acid washed jeans that hugged his legs tightly. He looked stunning as always, but the tenebrous arua which her Lord was known for was gone and the absence left Angel reeling for a moment before she was able to process the words her Master had spoken.

"Know what my Lord?" She questioned. She despised the clothing she wore and the need for such attire, but her Master had informed her of his plan to act ignorant of wizard culture to create a sense of false comfort for the ignorant wizarding populous. Oh how Angel dreamed of the day where she would shed her innocent skin and show the wizarding world the true monsters hidden in the dark, but it would not do to get ahead of her Lord and ruin his plans. Beelzebub’s word was law.

“You were not born to the madness which now flavours your every word and action.” Her Lord explained running his hands deceptively gently through her hair. “You know not how to hide the vicious cruelty and bloodthirsty vengeance which glows in your soul and through your very skin. If you were to speak the depravity which lives and thrives in you would be seen by all and that is unacceptable. Thus you will hold your silence unless I allow otherwise and I shall deal with any wizard or witch idiotic enough to approach.”

Angel let out a soft moan of agreement as her Lord’s fingers tightened in her hair painfully and tugged. She resisted for a moment to relish the prickling almost-pain in her scalp before following the hands demand to lift her head and bare her throat to her Master. “Trust and obey, for there’s no other way to be happy in service, but to trust and obey.” Her Lord chuckled and pressed a kiss to his Angel’s throat before biting into her neck until he felt her skin pop beneath his teeth as a ripe apple does. A hoarse whine fell from Angel’s lips as her Master lapped at her blood and she fought not to move, to offer him more or taste her life’s essence on his lips she knew not. 

A brusque knock sounded against the wall and Beelzebub finally pulled back from the coppery tang of his consort’s blood. Standing just in the doorway with a slightly bared neck was their newest child, Severus Laufeyson. Beelzebub held back from striking the man for interrupting him only because of his Angel’s protectiveness of their children and the man’s submissive stance, or maybe simply because for the moment he needed Severus to lead him into the wizarding world.Sometimes not even Beelzebub knew why he acted, or in this case did not act.

“There is no need to cower in the doorway.” Beelzebub stated almost harshly but night quite cruel. He did make some efforts with his children after all. “We are ready to leave.” Snape strode over seemingly regaining some of his confidence before and Beelzebub paused for a moment before concluding that a strong-spined child was much better than one who was simply obedient.

Snape grabbed his parents hands fighting off the wrongness that came mentally from calling two children by such a name and embraced the emotional and magical acceptance of such. No creature with even a spot of darkness in them would be able to deny the two tormented and twisted souls which emanated the most excruciatingly addicting despair beside him. It was only right he bow before them for these were no mere children, they were the noxious, foetid pits of hell come to life and for that Snape would obey them.

“Exit light. Enter night. Take my hand. We’re off to never-never land!” Angel exclaimed a delighted and viciously mischievous light glinting madly in her blind, milky eyes. After a quick and subtle nod from Beelzebub, Snape complied and the two were whisked away to Diagon Alley. 

Sounds and scents and feelings pressed, pressed, pressed, on her until Angel’s mind roared in rage and rebelled against everything. Her mind roiled and burned, cracked and revolted and the pieces of her psyche she had been able to keep intact began to shred and crack, spread and fall apart. This was why Angel never left the sanctity of her Lord’s enchanting home save at night when the world was as still as it could be and the arms of the darkness were able to wrap themselves around the girl in a cloak of comfort which muffled the world’s activities; but, here there was no such buffer between Angel and the moving, writhing mass of flesh and noise which encompassed the broken child and tore from her the last vestiges of sanity with which she made her mask. With those pieces of herself gone the mask of normality around the damned girl began to fall and shattered as glass does when dropped, leaving behind the madness which lay within. 

Then, with the crystal clarity of a summer’s breeze blowing away a spring storm, words inserted themselves into Angel’s mind: “Master of puppets I’m pulling your strings, twisting your mind and smashing your dreams. Blinded by me, you can’t see a thing. Just call my name, ‘cause I’ll hear you scream.”

Angel grabbed onto the life line offered her and from numb lips fell the response she knew her Lord and Lover and Life wanted: “Master, Master.” The words were spoken softly but with such reverence in each syllable. Each time, the title was caressed by her lips and tongue and rolled out of her mouth as warmed gold will pour into a cast. Perfect and beautiful and creating something which shines beyond any person’s wildest dreams.

“Just call my name, ‘cause I’ll hear you scream.” A harsh hand attached itself to Angel’s hip and the young girl responded forcefully this time, with conviction and determination and every ounce of her tainted, tarnished soul.

“Master, Master.” The sounds receded and Angel’s senses pulled themselves back into alignment. They were still far above the subpar kinesthesia of the average wizards and witches mingling and moving around her, but now they were controllable.

Angel’s head turned up and her sightless corn silk eyes met the cool Cal Poly green of her Master’s. Her lord rifled through her mind, soothing and fixing the jagged edges as best as possible before retreating and laying a soft looking touch against her cheek. In truth the finger left behind a frozen trail of frostbitten skin which never appeared do to the glamours coating Angel’s body. The touch was a warning as well as a test. Her Lord was warning her of the cost of another mistake and testing the blocks he had put upon her senses. If there had been any cracks in the walls he had put up, which was blasphemy in itself for Angel’s Lord would never fall so low as to having made such a mistake, and if there had been any cracks Angel would have been in far more pain the she was. Her Lord had been successful and now they could move on.

“If you would follow me I will lead you to Gringotts, the wizarding bank.” Snape knew his interruption was allowed here because his Lord and Lady’s business was finished and his Lord, father some small, traitoris part of his mind whispered devotedly, would not appreciate having to stay longer than was necessary. Delays wasted time and his Lord hated wasting time. 

“Lead the way, child.” Lord Beelzebub nodded his head in consent and quickly Snape sprang into motion, his black robes fluttering around his ankles as the darkness sometimes curled around Angel when her Lord allowed her to play with the shadows. Beelzebub allowed a slight smirk to touch the corners of his lips before disappearing, his Angel had chosen well their newest child if already the darkness was showing favor to the wizard leading them. This child would not disappoint, Beelzebub knew.

The walk to Gringotts brought much intriguing and important knowledge: Every wizard or witch who passed by the two children dressed in muggle clothing either shot them looks of disgusted hatred or cloying, condescending smiles. Beelzebub preferred the glares filled with scorn because he knew how to deal with such emotions in others and was vastly familiar with them; however, the too gentle way the other half of the population watched him stirred his fury and had his magic licking at his skin in a plea for release. Beelzebub reigned his magic in fiercely and allowed his eyes to flit from store to store and person to person as he worked to understand the society he would soon rule. 

Beelzebub was almost, almost, fascinated with the civilization he was now a part of. When he had first surveyed the hoi polloi around him, Beelzebub had seen a society so caught in the past they had become stagnant; however, as he watched numerous examples of progress seemed to leap forwards and catch his attention. This was no stagnant society, this was a group of people attempting to break from the past while keeping their culture. Those with disgust and those with pity in their eyes were holding onto the same truth seen differently. Here muggleborns, as his newest child had said they would be seen, were deemed inferior by all and whether this was met with clemency and condescension or animus and malevolence mattered not. Beelzebub’s first step, after gaining support, would be to integrate the muggleborns sufficiently and erase the feeling of inferiority which clung to the muggleborns. 

Angel could barely contain herself with so many canvases around her. She could feel some of the wizard’s smugness coming off them in waves and wanted nothing more than to cremate them all, and every so often the wish to brand someone flitted across her mind and captured her body in its grasp. At these times it was only the waves of soothing, savage, caliginous magic which radiated from her Lord that stayed her hand. 

At other times the sparkle and glitter of the magic around her made Angel nauseous, and Angel found herself beginning to despise this new world she had been drawn into. Almost everyone in this alley was filled with refulgent magic which burned along Angel’s nerves and ate at the girl’s putrid magic. Angel had once been a creature of the light, but now she had become so corrupted that even the smallest brushes of lambent feeling scorched her mind and sickened her body. She was happy in the night, thriving in the dusk, and wanted no part of the world she had left behind. “Hell is worth all that, natural habitat.” She firmly reminded herself. Her Lord was benevolent enough to lead her farther into perdition with every day and if she had to suffer the crowds around her for the right to serve her Lord, Angel would. For her Lord’s love, no matter how twisted and malevolent and selfish the feeling was, Angel would commit any crime, obey any command, and live in any way. 

Gringotts was beautiful and only Beelzebub’s hold on Angel’s hand kept her from running into the building at full speed. Angel could feel the pull of the dank, dark power frantically pulsing from the building as the magic soothed her frayed nerves and cooled her burning magic. The raging fire in Angel’s body stilled at the cool rushing power emanating from Gringotts and the goblins within. This was one part of the wizarding world Angel could learn to enjoy.

One goblin stood on either side of the giant white doors and Angel basked in the dark radiation coming off the two creatures. The feeling was intoxicating, but Angel had no time to spare and refused to be left behind when her Lord continued in through the doors and into the main part of the bank. The magic here was even better, soothing and sensuous as it rushed forward to greet the broken child who entered its hallowed halls. Her Lord sent out a flicker of his own power to great the oncoming magic and the two intermingled, testing whether the other was worthy of notice. Eventually the Gringott’s magic pulled away and Angel’s Lord smirked. The single most depraved and demented smile anyone in the bank had ever seen, if they had cared to look that is.

“Perhaps the wizarding world will be more interesting than I had anticipated.” Angel bit back a giggle at her Lord’s words and simply kept in step behind him. Here were creatures who would know in an instant the bond which tied these two demons together, and here Angel could properly act her part of slave to her Master. Angel always did despise the cretins who assumed she was on par with her glorious Master, but her Lord found the mistake to be useful and never allowed his Angel of Darkness to act upon instinct and destroy any who believed her Lord so weak as she. 

“Name?” The Goblin questioned voice bland and uncaring. A muscle spasmed in Angel’s hand as she fought not to reach for the knives strapped under her shirt. She’d use a clean edge for him, nothing serrated because no matter how beautiful the screams that come from a chunk of torn flesh pulled from the bone by a serrated blade, Angel loved even more the shocked gasp that came with a clean cut unnoticed until the pain hit. But, her Lord made no motion of allowance and so she stayed her hand and simply waited as her Lord would want.

“We are here to access the vaults of Harry Potter.” Severus replied promptly seeing the tension in his mother’s shoulders and the dark energy gathering beneath her skins as pale blind eyes began to overflow with the promise of pain. 

“Key?” The goblin questioned and Snape quickly slid the Potter key to the creature. Behind him the other goblins had taken notice of Beelzebub’s power devouring the ambient dark magic which lingered in the air, raging and rolling around the interior of the bank. This was why magic folk feared Gringotts and this is why no creature, human or otherwise, had ever successfully stolen from the bank. The eyes of the shadows were everywhere and every goblin knew had the power to call upon these eyes day or night, but a shadow’s eyes can only see in the dark, just as the sun’s eyes hold no power in the night, and thus the bank’s vaults were built within the bowels of the earth where no light would reach save the flicker of flames the goblins used for the sake of their human customers. 

Another goblin, eager to know what type of creature could possibly consume the darkness of the bank for sustenance, joined the group and, once the key had been confirmed though there had been no doubt of its authenticity for creatures as depraved as the two who had walked into the bank knew how to recognize those cut from the same fetid cloth as them and would not alienate those who could be acquaintances if not allies, turned to show them the way to their vault.

Beelzebub for his part was watching, observing, plotting. He knew these creatures, goblins his mind supplied, could be allies, but anything that was worthy of being an ally could also be a great enemy. So Beelzebub watched and studied the creatures as they dealt with the useless, maggots who assumed themselves far more important than they were. These blithering creatures were worth no more than an ant in the scheme of things, though if Beelzebub were to think in the long term he was no more than an anteater. Working to dispose of the simple minded creatures who feared having power, but still worthless in his own right. Every creature dies and while Beelzebub might make more of an impact than these worms he would still be forgotten one day. Such was the beauty of the world and Beelzebub still got a thrill from the knowledge that any act he committed would eventually be forgotten save by those who he committed them against, but they mattered none as eventually even they would be forgotten.

But for now, he would study these creatures and learn their habits so when he came back and offered an alliance he would be able to gain their favor easily. For now Beelzebub would work towards his goal and maybe, just maybe because it had happened so few times, enough to count on one hand and still have fingers left over,he would leave a scar upon the world, one that would never disappear even if it did fade.

Angel lived in the wind, in the sky and in the air. Speed and the feeling of falling, the fear of not being able to stop, made her blood pump faster and excited her beyond belief. Usually she was only able to indulge in such thrills when her Lord allowed her to ride one of the motorbikes he had gifted her with, but now her blood was pumping with adrenaline and only her Lord’s hand on her arm kept her from leaping over the side of the cart to see just how far down the bottom was. Looking over the edge she was sure she would be airborne for at least a minute if not more and the thought gave her a thrill leaving her aching and needy, but her Lord would not take care of her need now. He had business and perhaps if she was good he would care for her latter, the thought did not help her problem and she promptly switched trains of thought. 

Her new train carried her across thoughts of her children, left at home for they would have a meeting tomorrow about magic and its truth and until then none could know of the world hiding in plain sight, to the vermin she had danced with before coming to Diagon Alley, and briefly she found amusement in the knowledge that a magical society’s imagination summed up to the naming of their magical district diagonally, and finally her mind settled on the time ahead of her Lord and her, the time they would spend in Hogwarts. Another example of wizard’s creativity, she thought with vicious disgust.

It was then she wondered how she would survive the year without killing one or more of the vermin they she would be forced to house with. “I change the whole occasion to a pine box six-under.” She murmured beneath her breath, floating away on memories of bloodbaths and massacres. 

“Impulsive don’t ask why or wonder.” Angel’s head whipped to the side and a blinding smile graced her face as her Master’s teasing words floated around her head and settled into her cold, still heart. Rare were the moments her Master allowed himself to go so low as to joke. He often mocked and jeered, more often sneered and destroyed, but speaking for the intent of jovial laughter was rare. 

“Orders given to me is: strike and I’m thunder fast reflexes on constant alert.” She whispered lips brushing her Lord’s throat and a small pink tongue peeking out to lap at the tempting flesh. Fire met her arm and Angel gasped out a shuddering moan at the coldly burning pain. The feeling was intoxicating, but the message was clear: back off. 

Angel pulled away a soft whine floating in the air as she silently begged forgiveness though she never expected her Lord to forgive her unacceptable advances. Soft fingers petted her charred flesh, even though they dug into the flesh and pulled it up revealing new bloody skin and stinging, burning, furious pain stabbed through Angel’s arm and through her chest, she knew she had been forgiven. She would receive a punishment for her actions, because she had to be taught not to disobey or misbehave and other than sequestration discipline was the only way, but she was still forgiven.

Finally the cart came to a stop and the trio stepped out. The black magic was stronger down here than it had been in the bank above and Beelzebub could feel it battering at his shields. If he let them down the magic would flood him and the effect would be as if he had consumed intoxicants, and while feeding of the darkness felt wonderful Beelzebub could never afford to lose his mental abilities no matter how short the time. Beelzebub’s eyes followed the goblin’s finger as he unlocked the vault door, memorizing every motion and wondering, pondering whether a goblin’s finger was needed and if the appendage was necessary whether or not the finger had to have life’s blood pumping through it or if one cold and rotted would work.

The door opened and a thought caught Beelzebub, making his pale bloodless lips pull down in an imitation of a frown. Beelzebub had learned to mimic the facial expressions of the plebeians around him. Perfecting each different expression and implementing them at the most opportune moments had taken practice but Beelzebub had been determined to blend in with the common populace. A plague lies in wait, blending in with all around it, until the perfect moment comes. Then and only then does the plague strike out and carve a bloody swath through humanity leaving behind nothing but pain and ruin. 

This thought that had so entranced Beelzebub, though he still made sure everything around him was cataloged and threats were sussed out nothing would ever take so much focus from him as to allow for distraction from danger, was the knowledge that he was unaware how much a pound was compared to a galleon nor any other economic aspect of the wizarding world. Beelzebub needed to know if he was paying the proper price for the items he purchased and if the wizarding economy was going through a depression he could gain control by fixing the economy, but such luck was unlikely and Beelzebub would not count on such. 

“I would suggest simply grabbing a handful or two of galleons.” The my Lord was left unspoken but heard by all there, even the goblin who made note of the happenings and planned on reporting it to his king. 

Beelzebub nodded his head and Angel raced forward to grab the glittering gold. Briefly Beelzebub remembered the days when glittering objects were all it took to draw a smile from his Angel of Death, when life was simple thought for them simple meant living under the feet of the Dursleys. Daily beatings and rapes were nothing to wince at, but a smile was never far from his fallen angel’s lips. No pressure or worries beyond the next chore handed out to them, but Beelzebub had never been one to sit idle and allow those weaker than him to have control. Beelzebub had ended those simple days and in their place had come days of work and hardship and leading. In the days he now lived he found nothing to regret and though his Angel’s smiles never came from something so innocent as that of a glittering blade of grass covered in dew, Beelzebub knew his Angel was happier than she had ever been. The purity and innocence which had clung to hi Angel in desperation in their childhood had been destroyed and Angel was glad simply because that innocence had revolted Beelzebub and without it tainting his Angel Beelzebub was content. 

“Let us leave.” Beelzebub cared little for the money in his vault other than the power and influence he could gain from it and without knowing more about the wizarding world he would be unable to gain either of those things. For now the money in his vault meant nothing. The outside air was weighted, pressing with its pure magic upon Beelzebub who had started to become accustomed to Gringott’s much more pleasurable atmosphere.

“Books or clothes?” Beelzebub questioned turning to his consort. She always did enjoy making small choices.

“I read your book and I find it strange.” Beelzebub nodded at the wisdom in his girl’s words. She was well versed in braille of every language but a book of ink and pen would hold no meaning to her sightless eyes or careful hands. For his Angel to be productive she would need help there and help was something both he and she were loathe to accept, everyone had a price for their help and most often the price was far too steep.

“Severus,” the black haired man moved immediately to his Lord’s side and waited for instruction. “Escort my Angel to the clothing store and then meet me in the bookshop.” 

Beelzebub then turned towards his love and ran a finger from her temple to her chin and down the long slender throat to the hollow of her collarbone. “You’ll be a good girl while I’m gone?” He questioned softly. Many in his time as a crime lord had questioned his wisdom in having a left and right hand with the maturity level of an eight year-old and mentality akin to that of shattered glass, broken and jagged and unpredictable in when it will cut and when it will simple slide against the skin leaving behind nothing but the faint taste of danger barely avoided. What no one knew however, was the incredible genius which lay behind the insanity and the desperate, obsessive need to prove herself worthy of her Lord and Master. His Angel would never fail him.

“I done told you once-you son of a bitch-I’m the best that’s ever been.” If Beelzebub was unaware of the quote she was parroting he would have hurt his little consort for such an uncouth response, but as things were he simply laid a kiss upon the pale skin of his servant and turned to walk away. She would deal with clothes while he dealt with gathering any information they might need.

“This way my Lady.” Severus murmured touching her elbow softly to steer her in the correct direction even as he wondered how she was still alive after talking to their Lord in such a manner. Perhaps the connection these two cursed beings had forged, through fire and pain and despair and need and some kind of twisted warped version of love so perverse it could barely be labeled as the same love normal humans shared amongst one another and was far closer to an obsessive possessiveness, was stronger than he had imagined, stronger than any bond ever made before because theirs could never break and the servant was too shattered to ever realize any need within her to rise up against her willing suppressor and the Master was too smart, too savagely powerful to allow her the chance in the first place.

“Mother,” Angel replied sounding saner than should be possible but with how many masks she could pull off and how many personas she had created for herself a simple mask of relative sanity from a distance was easy to portray and laughable at the lack of skill need for one such as she. This angel had been playing and pretending amongst mortals for years and now that she had a mission from her Lord she would follow through with no mistakes. Slipping up when her beloved Lord was around was acceptable, but messing up alone was not and the only time she had ever made such a foul mistake was the day she lost her sight to her Lord’s benevolent ministrations. 

Severus frowned for a moment before he understood why his Lord’s consort had yet to move and reworded his earlier statement: “This way, Mother.” The small beaming smile sent a shudder down Severus spine as he could see the false feelings pushed into that smile and knew that behind such pretty things was a being of pure depravity and a creature so viciously cruel it would make Voldemort’s torture seem no worse than a small paper cut on the finger. She was beautifully, terrifyingly, seductive. And such thoughts disturbed Snape more for he was over fifteen years her senior and such disgusting things should never enter his mind, his only saving grace was the lack of physical attraction he felt towards the child, he was seduced only by her magic and even then it was only into obedience and nothing more.

“Madame Malkin's Robe Shop,” Snape read allowed for the masked girl by his side. If he was less observant or simply more naive Severus may have believed the girl at his side truly was a simple muggleborn excited to see a new and magical world, but Severus was neither naive nor oblivious and he could feel in the air her need to destroy and ruin and savage the lands around her. She was a disease that would never fade from the world only disappear and reappear as people realized the threat and exterminated it before becoming complacent and falling victim to the very same routine. Eventually one side would have to give and if the battle came down to this fallen angel and every other creature on the earth, save Beelzebub who would stand by this crazed woman’s side and watch the world burn with her, then Snape would bet everything he had on Mother.

“Thank you!” A giggled escaped the pale pink lips coated in a thin layer of gloss Snape had failed to notice before and the dark-haired man could not leave fast enough. That sound was the noise of Armageddon.

The swish of fabric and slosh of blood pumping through veins alerted Angel to the presence of two others inside the shop with her. Odd that no other human was in the shop on such a busy day and with school so close and robes to get for new students and old ones who had outgrown their former clothing. “I’ll be with you in a moment dear.” A cheery voice called out and Angel flicked her eyes towards the sound knowing by now the best place for her eyes to focus so the woman would believe Angel had sight. “Step right up here and I’ll be back in a moment.”

Angel shuffled forward moving towards the other blood source in the room and waited till she felt her feet hsi something solid before taking the step up and standing still as could be.Her mask was good, impenetrable beyond any who knew she was wearing a mask, but she never felt the need to test it unnecessarily and would hold her tongue lest the boy beside her believed they could ever become friends. She knew it was a boy at her side simply because of his smell, the scent of growing testosterone in the air absent in females assaulted her nose and burned her sinuses. Her Lord never had such an atrocious smell for he needed no outward sign of his dominance when it radiated from his every step and move.  
“Hogwarts?” The boy’s voice grated on her nerves but she turned a shy smile in the boy’s direction and replied with a sweet voice.

“Yes,” Burning, burning, burning in her throat at the one sweet word, bitterly, cloyingly sweet. The kind of sweet that clogs your throat and turns the stomach viciously.

“What house do you think you’ll be in? I’d leave is I was put into Hufflepuff wouldn’t you?” Perhaps the best course of action would be to act not as an innocent muggleborn but a cruel pureblood instead. No one need know her name and by the time she arrived in Hogwarts her appearance will have changed to a degree upon which no person would be able to recognize her.

“Such a perfect mask you’re wearing, such a perfect work of art.” Because this pathetic boy was spouting out words not his own, words he had memorized and rehearsed more times than the most dedicated of actors. But she, she was more than that. She was no actor, she was split and with every new persona another piece of her broke off to become that person not just act as it. “Too bad I’m a playwright,” she hissed out lowly. Low enough for the boy to need to lean closer in order to hear all of the words. “And the show’s about to start.” She would rewrite his play and destroy him in the making of it. Just as she would rewrite the script of the whole world and change the earth’s very existence.

“How dare you!” The boy-child snarled and the insane cackle fighting its way up Angel’s chest had to be quickly suppressed. The boy was as an ant playing at a tiger. “It is my fate to be better than you! I am Draco Malfoy!”

The name floated through Angel’s mind just as another came to greet it. Estela Malfoy. Had that not been the name her birth-givers had forced upon her? This boy, a relation of hers certainly, had just ensured his place as her first wizard kill. “Instead of trusting fate- that fickle thing I will dream my own fairytale real.” She would start with this child Malfoy and work her way up. Under the guidance of her Master she would destroy them all.


End file.
